


Seeds

by SpaMightWrite



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Magic AU, mycology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bayley is an oracle working for Emma, a mycomancer. She has a very odd vision regarding a mysterious stranger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds

**Author's Note:**

> Part of Raehex's WWE Magic AU, Something Wicked. Defs recommend checking that out first, but there isn't any specific continuity you need to worry about. This one works as a standalone.

The fog had rolled over the verdant hills early that morning, blanketing the countryside in a refreshing haze. Fields, pastures, and woods alike bathed in the cool morning mist, which allowed certain creatures, certain rituals, and certain people to remain hidden, safe to go about their ways. A domed cottage wrought from adobe and two small windows sat concealed and quiet as the sun lumbered upwards from the horizon. The building was nestled close to a small green hill, atop which sat a single dead oak tree whose branches reached futilely into the still air.

And it was this guardian of the hillock that watched over the cottage and its inhabitants, that served as a guide to those attempting to find it.

Two bicycle tires vibrated against the damp dirt road, carrying the bright purple frame and its rider off of the main path and to the front door. The sign above it, carved from driftwood and painted with the image of wildflowers, read “Emmushrooms”, the simple portmanteau which made the rider grin every morning as she arrived.

She was clad in a yellow bodycon dress whose hem sat at her knees and a purple hooded sweatshirt that day, a tribute to the pansies on the windowsill at her place of work. Her earth-brown hair was piled high into a side ponytail, as usual, joined by a headband with a flat-laying lace bow. The bicycle leaned safely against the side of the house, she re-tightened the laces on her highlighter green sneakers and pushed the front door open to start her day.

There were a lot of things that Bayley didn't love about her job. As the sole apprentice to one of the most respected mycomancers in the state, a myriad of responsibilities were laid on her shoulders. Five mornings a week riding her bike an hour from home, rain or shine or what have you. Two hours of hauling overflowing baskets from the neighboring pasture, the woods, the creek bed along the main road. Two in the dark of the cave underneath the hill, separated from the world by the impenetrable shade and a heavy wooden door. Three more hours behind the counter, answering the phone, fetching things from on high, serving what few customers would visit on any given day. An hour to close down, one more to get back home.

But with every detractor, there was more than enough to keep her going back. Her time outside was pleasant and refreshing most days, allowed her to take in as much fresh air as she wanted, the gorgeous scenery surrounding the cottage, the wildlife that she could observe from afar. The constant activity kept her body strong and ready for any challenge she might face in everyday life. Though she dreaded spending so much time in the dark under the hill, the velvety purple, silken white, and shining orange of the resultant fruiting bodies made her heart swell. On Wednesdays, she and her employer would load the pickup truck with crates upon crates of their wares and drive to the farmer's market. Here, she laughed and traded stories with the local chefs that had become their regular customers, and – dare she say it? - trusted friends.

And as she sweated and panted and hefted through her day, it was these little seeds of joy that fueled her progress, carried her to the sixth day of the week, wherein her true skills would be utilized.

That particular morning, as she hauled a basketful of hen-of-the-woods through the trees, she stopped dead in her tracks as a flash of red caught the corner of her eye. A rarity of a sight among the shades of green and brown, and possibly something very important. She stepped in that direction to confirm her suspicions, and her big, bright eyes widened at her discovery.

A ring of red caps speckled with tiny white lumps stood upon thick, pale stems on the forest floor. As she approached closer, she found it spanning several feet in diameter, neat and even in circumference, and each of its bodies healthy in skin and bright in color. She nearly spilled her basket's contents as she whooped and jumped high in excitement.

After taking a moment to note its location, she bounded over errant roots and fallen branches, out of the woods and across the pasture, bursting through the front door of the cottage. She didn't even notice the unfamiliar motorcycle parked just off of the dirt road.

“Emma!” Bayley exclaimed in spite of her lack of breath. “Emma, I found a ring - fly agarics - totally strong and perfectly round--”

It wasn't her employer that she found in the shop. Nor was it one of their regulars. And it most certainly was not a neighbor or even a farmer. He was dressed in ripped jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket that was most certainly worn beyond its worth.

The large stranger had been staring up at the shelves that lined each wall from floor to ceiling, each holding countless stems and caps within their individually labeled baskets. His attention focused on her as the door had opened, and he turned to face her just as her voice died in her throat. He was tall, almost lanky, wide in shoulder and slim in waist. His round face looked tired, or at the very least scruffy. Blue eyes like ice surrounded by sleepy lids, cheeks adorned with a ginger stubble. Wild, fluffy curls sat atop his head and bounced as he nodded towards Bayley.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” She rushed past him, deposited her basket on the counter, and placed herself on the other side. With her best smile on her face she greeted, “What can I help you with, sir?”

The visitor had a confused but open smile on his face, dimpling his cheek and throwing Bayley's heartbeat off track.

“Hey.” He spoke, low and deep. “I uh... I've never been to this kinda place before. Usually I buy more local, but...”

“I can help you find whatever you need!” Bayley piped up, ready to employ her hours of research and expertise. She thought it a shame that her boss wasn't here to see how well she was doing...

No sooner than it took the thought to cross her mind, Emma stepped out from the curtain near the back of the shop, the one embroidered with the words “Staff Only”. In place of her usual dreamy grin was a look of concern, a quirked eyebrow of suspicion. The tan blonde, today wearing a neon geometric patterned sun dress, strode across the room and joined Bayley behind the counter.

“Welcome to my shop, sir,” Emma intoned, her Australian accent seeming to surprise the strange customer. “I apologize, usually I man the counter while my apprentice is out harvesting. What can I help you with?”

Bayley suddenly felt out of place, and out of her league. She almost considered walking off from the transaction entirely, but it would be even more awkward for her to leave.

“Ah, well...” the stranger fidgeted on his feet and scratched the back of his head, his eyes wandering about the walls again. “I gotta tell ya, I have no idea what I'm doin' with this...” He stammered a lot, seemed unsure of how to put anything that came out of his mouth. Yet something about him was magnetic. Bayley had a sense for these things, and she was never wrong. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. “I mean, Roman sent me here 'cuz I had the free time and he didn't, and I owe 'im more than one...”

He unfolded the piece of paper and laid it on the counter, his large hands dwarfing those of either of the shopkeepers.

“Everything he needs is on that list. Apparently price ain't an issue.” He shrugged, chuckling to himself. “Not that I'd know if you were ripping me off or anything, so.”

Emma picked up the note and scanned it quickly. She glanced up with even more suspicion as the first item registered in her mind. But her expression immediately warmed as she reached the end of the list, and she looked up to smile at their visitor.

“Righto!” she exclaimed, handing the list over to her associate. “Got everything you need right in the shop. Bayley, if you'd please gather these for him, I'll step into the back and fetch the psilocybins, crunch the numbers, all that.”

Ah, that was why Emma seemed so leery at first. The stranger did seem somewhat scruffy and out of place, and he was asking for something specific and not necessarily on the up and up. The rest of the list, containing much more innocuous and expensive items, cleared him of that accusation. But Bayley was often incapable of judging by appearance. And more than once, there were incidents that escalated beyond a polite request to leave.

But that was what the combination safe in the back was for. And their weekly sparring practice.

As Emma scurried off beyond the curtain once more, Bayley was left by herself with the oddly charismatic stranger. They stared at each other for a few moments before she remembered herself and went to fetch the stepladder.

“So,” she began, basket on her elbow and stepladder under her feet, “you said your friend sent you here?” Easy small talk was the mark of good customer service, she knew.

“Ah yeah, Roman...” The way he said his name seemed warm, familial even. “He's got some big plans soon. Says he needs the best stuff for it. I don't understand half of what he does, but he knows what he's doing.”

Bayley had scanned the list briefly. Beyond the ingredient needed for... “flying ointment”, there were many rather heavy-duty protection supplies, as well as several edible selections.

“Does he cook?” she asked, loading the basket with several mature and hefty agaricus bisporus caps, deep silk brown and lovely. “These ones I'm putting in right now, they're awesome on steaks.”

His ears seemed to perk up and a sparkle flashed in his eye. “He did say a few of 'em were for me. Probably payment for going so far out into the sticks. No offense.”

“Oh, none taken! Even I have to ride a whole hour to get here every day. I gotta use pedals, though. You gotta pretty neat ride out there.”

“Neat,” he repeated, obviously amused by the terminology. “That's one way to put it.”

She blushed again. It was difficult to contain her enthusiasm for just about anything, and as such change her speaking style to be less embarrassing.

He seemed to notice her embarrassment, and quickly backpedaled. “You're right, though. It's a pretty neat bike. I like yours, too. Suits ya.”

That didn't exactly help...

Emma soon returned from the back, a plastic baggie wrapped up in a neat pink ribbon in hand. Bayley finished her gathering at the same moment and descended the ladder to pack up his purchase. As she separated species into strawberry baskets and wrapped them in plastic, Emma handed over the invoice to a surprised whistle.

“Well, ain't my money, so...” The stranger pulled out an impressive wad of bills and counted the appropriate amount.

Bayley tried not to stare, but it was certainly difficult to ignore the tremendous profit they'd already gained for that day. And it would be helpful, considering how soon they would have to close the shop in order to make use of her discovery.

Now laden with an overflowing paper bag, the stranger winked and clicked his tongue at the women behind the counter. “Thank you, ladies. Maybe I'll be back someday?” He almost seemed unsure of it, himself.

Bayley's ears were burning even as the mysterious customer went through the front door. As the motorcycle's engine revved to life and sped away, she felt a nudge on her ribs. And she looked up to find Emma grinning madly in her direction.

“Shall I turn on the air, or grab you an ice pack?” she teased.

The apprentice puffed out her cheeks in mock annoyance and nudged her employer back on the shoulder.

Emma placed the cash in the register and shut it with a click. “So, what was it you were shouting about earlier?”

“Oh!!” Bayley slapped the counter, and then her forehead, nearly having forgotten about it after that wink. “Right in the woods. Fairy ring. You gotta come see it, it's perfect.”

“You sure?” She was smiling, but it was tinged with skepticism. “We've had false starts before, love. We need to make absolutely certain--”

She grinned ear to ear. “Fly agarics.”

“I'll lock the shop.”

~

In contrast to the brightly colored outfit she was wearing when she came in to work, Bayley stepped barefoot across the forest floor in a once-white cotton robe, now decorated with various earthen shades of the dirt below them. It really didn't carry any significance to what they were doing. It was just far simpler to change into something else rather than get one's clothes dirty.

Yet the reverence of what wearing the robe meant to Bayley made her heart jump as she led Emma to the site of her find. Emma herself hadn't changed from the dress she'd come in with. The nature and strength of this fairy ring meant that Bayley would be flying solo today.

She'd done this before. Several times. It was never a walk in the park, especially when she had to go it alone. Emma wouldn't be leaving her side, but she would be somewhere else entirely by the time it began.

They soon came upon it, and Emma nodded, impressed. “Remind me never to doubt you again, love.”

Her heart swelled with pride as she stepped over the threshold and took in the warm earth against her skin. The ground outside of it was still cool with the morning, but inside the fairy ring was warm with living energy. She knelt down and settled in a comfortable position, sharing her own body heat with the earth.

“Ready?” Emma had already retrieved the thermos from her purse.

“You know it!” Bayley took the hot container from her and twisted open the lid. Steam rose and dissipated in the gentle breeze. Without hesitation, she tipped the rim against her lips and drank. The tea was even more bitter than she remembered, but she'd had plenty of practice choking it down without spilling a drop.

The thermos drained and returned to her employer, Bayley laid down against the dirt with a deep sigh. The warmth and energy of nature flowing in and out of her skin, the trance already overtaking her, she fell away from the forest.

~

It always began with colors. Ones she could never fully describe once awake. Ones she would never see in full consciousness.

And it began this time with a sort of pulsing red, like a fully oxygenated blood vessel, throbbing inside of a tensed and muscular throat. Then bellowing from the same throat a deep and angry gray smoke, that which twisted and squeezed itself into a black sludge.

The slimed tendril reached with countless fingers downward and back to the throat from whence it came. It wrapped itself once, twice, thrice around the neck, constricted inward, squeezed more of itself from the choking mouth above.

Bayley reached forth with limbs she didn't possess in a futile attempt to help, but found herself swimming away until the throat and its owner was long gone.

She was then bombarded on all sides by tremendous noise, insistent shouting of words she couldn't understand. But through the haze of sound came the ice blue of a pair of orbs, which blinked and narrowed with confusion even though they lacked eyelids.

A warning flew from Bayley's lips and died in a silent bubble that floated off. The eyes followed its journey, and the one possessing them ran desperately in the opposite direction on bloodied feet.

She clawed against the rising tide of wind, attempted to follow. But the ground crumbled and came off in her hands. Her fists were full of something small, soft, fragile.

In both lay mushrooms, stemmed with white and capped with a dun yellow. Amanita caesaria, or caesar's mushrooms, known to be quite delicious... no, just one of them. The other was nearly identical. And it took just a moment for her to distinguish them.

Amanita phalloides.

Known commonly as death caps.

And suddenly, the owner of the ice blue eyes had returned. Bayley's hands were his hands. They held each mushroom with equal care, or lack thereof.

He turned to go.

~

It wasn't the first time she'd awoken on the fainting couch in the back of the shop with bile in the back of her throat. As she clung to her consciousness, she felt a plastic straw being pressed to her lips. Cool, clean water fell down her throat, washing away the bitterness and clearing her head.

“No need to provide a trip report,” Emma insisted, patting Bayley on the forehead. “You certainly weren't quiet during this one. Heard everything. That dream journaling has really helped, you know.”

“The... customer...” she moaned, her head throbbing. “Gotta... tell him. Give me his phone number, I have to--”

“He paid cash, Bayley. I don't have it.”

She slumped against the couch. She had to tell him... he had to know what he was. He knew he wasn't normal, but he didn't know. He didn't know just...

“If you need a few days off, I understand.”

Bayley nodded. Emma stood and walked back into the front of the shop, leaving her to her own thoughts, and a decision.

Bayley was merely human. Though she was talented, strong, skilled, determined, she was mortal. Fated like all others to one day enter the earth never to return, to be fed upon by organisms that could not be negotiated with, could not be kept at bay by any normal means. But where her mortal body could be destroyed with far more ease than was required to create it, she endeavored to build something that would last longer than her physical form.

An idea, a virtue, if you will. One that could be spread simply, easily, one that would endure in spite of efforts to eradicate it.

Like the mushrooms she plucked from the earth with a gentle twist.

But one cannot be rid of mushrooms by any normal means. They could be ripped up for whatever purpose, they could dry and wither into oblivion, they could be consumed and excreted and forgotten. In spite of lawnmowers, poisons, and even salt. Most didn't consider much more than what was above the ground and visible to their naked eye, but each stem and cap and veil and book of gills are born from a system of roots that hid and thrived beneath the dirt. These delicate tendrils, along with the spores fallen from the bodies above, lay dormant when necessary, but can revive themselves time and again with little more than a steady rainfall.

In spite of the dark clouds on the horizon, in spite of her vision that may never reach the one who could use its message most, in spite of the ache in the pit of her stomach, the spores of hope would eventually grow once more into a healthy fruiting body.

And so she had to try.

Bayley hauled herself to her feet and sat up on the chaise lounge, allowing the quilt to fall away. She had connections, through Emma, through their neighbors and customers, through her friend Alexa in the city. It was time to make use of them, to find the stranger again, somehow.

Time to make some calls.


End file.
